


Just A Few More Steps To Safety

by fractalgeometry



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hugs, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Sharing a Bed, The Night At Crowley's Flat (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26045485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalgeometry/pseuds/fractalgeometry
Summary: “It’s not like we can get into any more trouble, angel,” Crowley said. “One hug either way isn’t going to change what they do to us.”Aziraphale lifted his arms and hugged back fiercely, understanding as soon as he felt Crowley’s back under his hands why the demon was squeezing so hard. It felt as though maybe, if he held on tight enough, he could keep them safe.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 158
Collections: comfort fics





	Just A Few More Steps To Safety

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve seen it said that most Good Omens fanfic writers eventually write a “that night at Crowley’s flat” fic, which was funny at the time and even funnier now that I’ve accidentally gotten an idea for one, written, edited, and am now posting it. Also, my beta called this “the softest life-or-death-dilemma story I could imagine”, which is probably unsurprising if you’ve read my other works, but either way gives you some of an idea of where we’re going with this.
> 
> Aziraphale, Crowley, the prophecy, and everything else I’ve pulled from canon belong to the authors and whoever else they’ve given the rights to. My writing is mine, but I’m playing in their sandbox.

Crowley’s flat was all sharply-cut edges and dark finishes. He waved the lights on as they entered, and Aziraphale looked around, taking in the bare walls and floor, the shadowy doorways off the hall. Crowley didn’t even pause, striding straight inside toward a room farther on. Aziraphale trailed behind, quiet in the face of being invited into Crowley’s space.

“Oh, fuck.” Crowley stopped abruptly, and Aziraphale tensed automatically, running through all the possible things that could be waiting for them. Not Hell, please not Hell, not already, not before they’d had a chance to think…

“What is it?” he asked.

Crowley turned and saw the look on his face. “Nothing! Nothing...urgent. Just a thing I have to clean up. Somehow.” He ran a hand over his face, looking very tired.

“What?”

“I used the holy water,” Crowley said, almost reluctantly. “Saved me, if we’re being honest about things. I’d never have gotten out of this flat, let alone to Tadfield, if I hadn’t had it. Didn’t have a chance to clean up after, though.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale tried to settle his heart rate back to something less anxiety-inducing, though the idea of Crowley in close proximity to holy water wasn’t helping. “I could do it for you?”

Crowley looked almost comically relieved. He  _ must _ be tired, Aziraphale thought, if he was that easy to read. “I don’t know how I’d go about it. Your miracles’ll probably work on it, though. Not confident in mine.”

“Show me,” Aziraphale said, moving up to stand next to Crowley.

Crowley pointed to an unpleasant-looking puddle in one of the doorways. Aziraphale frowned and stepped closer. “You think it’s still holy?”

“Not a risk I feel like taking right now,” Crowley said. He sighed and leaned against the wall while Aziraphale inspected the puddle. “Not that it’ll probably matter all that much anyway.”

“Hm?” Aziraphale asked. It  _ seemed _ as though he should be able to just miracle it away, but the demonic content of the puddle was making him cautious.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if they got it backwards?” Crowley was saying behind him. “Holy water for you and hellfire for me? Even Hell’s not that stupid, though. Neither of them are. Or if somebody was, somebody else would check and catch it.”

His voice faded a little, as though he was walking away. Aziraphale glared at the puddle one more time, then pursed his lips and snapped. The floor was instantly clear and dry. He probed it a few times, but couldn’t sense any lingering holiness, so he turned and followed in the direction Crowley had gone. 

“I think that’s taken care of,” he said, coming into what appeared to be a living room. 

“Thanks, angel,” Crowley said, and smiled tiredly. He was leaning against the back of what looked to be a very uncomfortable black sofa, looking somewhat at loose ends. 

“Now, I was thinking about this prophecy,” Aziraphale continued, starting to pull it out of his pocket. “It must be useful somehow, only I can’t figure out what it-”

He stopped as Crowley’s hand reached out and grasped him firmly around the wrist. “Aziraphale, can we not?”

“What?” Aziraphale let go of the prophecy, which slid back into his pocket. “But we have to learn what it  _ means!” _

“Can it wait? Just a bit?” Crowley sounded almost pleading. “No one’s going to come for us tonight. They’re probably still calming the masses of disappointed soldiers or something. I just…” 

He huffed and pulled his sunglasses off, tossing them aside. Then he put his second hand on Aziraphale’s wrist too, like he was trying to hold onto a particularly strong balloon, and Aziraphale saw what looked almost like desperation in his eyes. 

“I’m so fucking tired,” Crowley said. “And I didn’t even get discorporated and possess someone and heaven knows what else today. I can’t- Aziraphale, I can’t make more life-or-death decisions right now. Even if we can figure out what that thing means.”

“If I just think about it a bit…” Aziraphale began.

Crowley’s shoulders dropped, and his grip loosened. He closed his eyes, looking like he was trying very hard to grasp something that kept slipping away. Then he pulled Aziraphale’s wrist, lifting himself from his lean and pulling Aziraphale closer in one movement, ducking in to wrap his arms around Aziraphale’s middle in a shockingly tight hug.

Aziraphale felt himself stiffen, reminding Crowley that this wasn’t safe, he should back away, but Crowley’s hold stayed firm. 

“It’s not like we can get into any more trouble, angel,” he said, just as Aziraphale was beginning to wonder if he’d forgotten the hint. “One hug either way isn’t going to change what they do to us.”

Aziraphale heard the exhaustion in the words, and then he heard the truth in them. There was no need to hide things, because Heaven and Hell were undoubtedly as angry as they could get.

He lifted his arms and hugged back fiercely, understanding as soon as he felt Crowley’s back under his hands why the demon was squeezing so hard. It felt as though maybe, if he held on tight enough, he could keep them safe. 

“You were gone,” Crowley mumbled into Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I lost you, and I didn’t know what to do.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s breath caught on the word. “Crowley.”

“Didn’t have a chance to do anything, when you came back,” Crowley continued, still not lifting his head. “I saw you, and then the Antichrist kid got your corporation back, but everything was going to Hell — or Heaven, really a toss up at that point — and I couldn’t actually check. That you were you, or that you were okay, or, like, what even  _ happened.” _ His voice wobbled. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale said again. “You were so casual, taking it in stride and moving onto the next thing, I didn’t even realize…”

“Had to,” Crowley said quietly. “The world was ending, and either we stopped it and I could check on you after, or we didn’t, and it wouldn’t matter so much anyway. So,” he readjusted his arms without loosening his corset-like hold on Aziraphale’s torso, “now I’m going to need a minute.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said, suddenly very willing to stand there and take comfort in the fact that they were both alive and incorporated enough to do things like attempt to squeeze the breath out of each other with the force of their affection. 

“Are you crying?” he asked after a moment, before mentally kicking himself for letting that slip out. 

“Nuh uh,” Crowley mumbled. “‘M a demon.”

“That has nothing to do with it,” Aziraphale pointed out. “I think let’s sit down, all right?”

Crowley stayed silent and motionless for a long moment. Finally he said, “Don’t let go.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Aziraphale assured him, entirely honestly. 

Crowley sighed and stepped away just enough that they could shuffle awkwardly around the sofa and land heavily on it in a tangle of arms and legs. As soon as they were vaguely settled, Crowley somehow shimmied closer still until he was half on top of, half next to Aziraphale. 

“If you want space, or- or alone time or something, you’re going to need to say so,” he said quietly. 

Aziraphale decidedly did not want either of those things at the moment, especially given Crowley’s clear desire to be as close as possible. He squeezed Crowley in response, letting his actions speak for his opinion on the matter.

“I don’t think I could go through that again,” Crowley mumbled after a while. “Thought you were dead once. Now you’re not allowed to die. I’ve already had that experience.”

“I think we should be able to prevent either of us from dying,” Aziraphale said softly. “We just need to-”

“I  _ know,” _ Crowley said. “We’ll have to look at the damn prophecy again, and I won’t be able to figure it out this time either. I was thinking about it all the way through the bus ride, you know.” He pulled his head back so he could look at Aziraphale. “It still doesn’t make any sense. And I  _ hate _ that.”

Aziraphale didn’t have a response for that. He had thought through it too, turning the words over and over in his head until he couldn’t have forgotten them if he tried. It felt so foolish, that he could parse the exact location of the Antichrist from the prophecies in one night, but the meaning of a single verse that would save his — and Crowley’s — lives eluded him. 

“What if we just rest for a little while?” Crowley asked. “I think my problem is my brain is at capacity. No more processing power for a while. And I can’t imagine you’re any different.”

“I-” Aziraphale began to protest, then stopped. 

“This has probably been the single most intense day of our entire lives, Aziraphale,” Crowley pointed out. “Would knock anybody out.”

“But if someone comes for us and we’re not prepared…” Aziraphale said, and now he was the one with tears in his eyes. 

“I will personally fight all of Heaven and Hell if I have to,” Crowley said darkly, and Aziraphale laughed, a little wetly. Crowley smiled back. “It wouldn’t actually work, I guess. But I’d do it anyway. Point is, a few hours of rest now should make any time we spend parsing that scrap of paper later more efficient.”

“All right,” Aziraphale agreed reluctantly. “But if the answer comes to you, you’ll tell me, right?”

“Duh,” Crowley said, pulling away and setting his feet on the floor. “Our own side, remember? Can’t do it with just one of us.”

Aziraphale smiled a little. “No, I suppose not.”

Crowley stood up, letting his hand slide along Aziraphale’s arm to grasp his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“I’m not trying to sleep on this thing,” Crowley said, waving at the sofa. “I’m going to take a nap in my own bed, and since I’d really rather not let you out of my sight, you’re coming along, unless you really don’t want to.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale allowed himself to be pulled up. “I don’t expect I’ll sleep, though.”

“You don’t have to.”

Aziraphale trailed after Crowley down the hallway to a room whose main furnishing was a very large bed. Crowley let go of his hand as they approached it, snapping himself into pajamas and climbing into the bed without checking his stride. He turned to look at Aziraphale, who was standing where Crowley had left him, unsure of what to do next.

“Come on,” he said, nodding to the other side of the bed. “Or we can miracle you up a chair or something, if you’d rather.” He looked somehow less than pleased by that idea.

“Ought I wear something…” Aziraphale trailed off, gesturing vaguely at Crowley’s new outfit.

“It’s more comfortable that way,” Crowley shrugged. He seemed to search Aziraphale’s face for a moment, then added, “Not necessary, though. ‘S up to you.”

Aziraphale pressed his hands to the familiar fit and fabric of his usual clothes. “I would rather- it is good to be reminded that I am  _ me _ again, I think.”

“Ah,” Crowley said, as though he actually understood. “Come on, then.”

Aziraphale went, settling gingerly onto the very edge of the bed until Crowley huffed and grabbed his hand to tug him closer. Aziraphale obligingly climbed up the bed until he could lean against the headboard. The bed was very soft, and if he had ever been one to sleep, he might have considered it now. As it was, he was entirely too tired to try something new, so sitting up it would be. 

Crowley flung himself face-down next to Aziraphale, then squirmed closer until he could wrap his arms around Aziraphale’s waist, leaving his head in Aziraphale’s lap and the rest of his long body flopped at an almost forty-five degree angle across the rest of the bed. 

“Wake me up in a couple hours,” he said, voice muffled by Aziraphale’s jacket. “And we can look at that damn poem again.”

“It’s a  _ prophecy,” _ Aziraphale said. 

“Mm,” Crowley agreed, in a tone that indicated he didn’t care one whit. “Actually…” He unwound one arm from Aziraphale’s waist and snapped in the direction of the bedside table before replacing his arm. “Now the alarm clock will wake us up if you want to sleep too.”

Aziraphale’s hand drifted to Crowley’s hair, which happened to be right where his hand would normally rest, and gave it an experimental stroke. Crowley exhaled audibly and relaxed further. 

“Don’t just sit there worrying,” he mumbled, sounding outright sleepy now. “A few hours’ll be fine.”

“I’ll try,” Aziraphale murmured, and twined his fingers further into Crowley’s hair. 

Crowley didn’t take long to fall asleep. At least, it wasn’t long until he was lying still with his eyes closed and breathing slowly, which Aziraphale thought indicated sleep. He had shockingly little actual experience with sleeping people. 

Aziraphale sat still and watched the sleeping demon in his lap. He briefly wished he had a book to occupy him, considered miracling one over, and just as quickly realized that he wouldn’t be able to focus on it. It was an odd realization. Aziraphale was always open to reading, and it had almost never failed to be a successful escape from whatever it was he would really rather ignore at any given time. But at this particular moment, he wasn’t sure that it  _ would _ be a good one.

Instead he watched Crowley, and despite the earlier warning not to spend his time worrying, he worried. They were in danger, so much danger. And where Crowley said he couldn’t lose Aziraphale again, Aziraphale didn’t think he could lose Crowley even once. He couldn’t, and yet if something didn’t change — and fast — he  _ would. _

The prophecy. The  _ damn _ prophecy, as Crowley kept calling it, and Aziraphale thought he understood why. Safety was in their reach, if only they could parse those old, cryptic words. 

He made to pull the paper from his pocket, then realized Crowley was sleeping quite firmly on it. He frowned and set his hand on his leg instead. 

_ Choofe your faces wisely… _

He was so tired of running through the short phrases in his head. Perhaps it was good that the prophecy was well and truly stuck in his pocket. He might have damaged it in frustration if it were in his hand.

Goodness, Crowley might be right about Aziraphale being tired, if he could even fathom doing damage to such an object as one of Agnes Nutter’s prophecies. Granted, it wasn’t the book itself — that  _ would _ be alarming — but even a torn-out verse commanded serious respect. 

Aziraphale dropped his head back, hitting it none too gently on the enormous headboard of Crowley’s bed. He ran through the words again in his head, pausing in between, analyzing each word as if to see if it held the key to the whole puzzle. None stood out. 

Halfway through his second mental recitation, a memory pinged somewhere in his mind. Not the prophecy, more like a half-heard sentence from some time when he was distracted. Crowley’s voice, tired and moving away…

_ Wouldn’t it be nice if they got it backwards? Holy water for you and hellfire for me? _

Aziraphale sat up abruptly. Crowley stirred and made a displeased noise. 

_ Choofe your faces wisely… _

“That’s it,” Aziraphale whispered to the silent room. 

“Wha’s it?” Crowley asked sleepily.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, chagrined. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Wasn’t sleeping that deep anyway. Turns out imminent destruction might screw with your ability to relax.”

“That’s it,” Aziraphale said again. “Imminent destruction. I think I figured it out.”

Crowley groaned and rolled onto his back, blinking up at Aziraphale. “Did you rest at  _ all?” _

“Not exactly,” Aziraphale admitted. “I had to figure out what to do.”

Crowley looked as though he’d like to say something else about Aziraphale’s lack of rest, but instead he said, “Really? What’ve you got?”

Aziraphale hesitated. It sounded brilliant in his head, but who knew if the idea would be full of holes the second he voiced it? On the other hand, if it  _ was _ full of holes, they would still have to find an actual solution, and fast.

“We think they’re likely to use holy water and hellfire, right? Go straight for, er, annihilation of those who questioned authority.”

Crowley looked a little pale at “annihilation”, but nodded. His hand moved, catching Aziraphale’s where it lay on the bed and linking their fingers together.

Aziraphale held it back, firmly. “But you’re immune to hellfire, and I’m immune to holy water. So if we could trick them into doing it backwards…”

“None of them are stupid enough for that, angel,” Crowley said. He pushed himself out of Aziraphale’s lap and sat up, leaning his weight on the hand that wasn’t holding Aziraphale’s.

“Not unless we disguise ourselves,” Aziraphale said, gathering steam. The idea was turning out to not sound so full of holes after all. “Corporations are just covers, so to speak, for our actual forms. And they won’t look past that, I expect.”

Now Crowley looked wondering. “You don’t mean- angel, that’s- would that actually work?”

“I don’t see why not,” Aziraphale said, with more confidence than he felt. “There’s not much precedent, I suppose-”

“Most angels wouldn’t even come close enough to a demon to properly know what their corporation looks like,” Crowley agreed. “Let alone try to swap.”

“But until today — or yesterday, at this point — there was no precedent for an angel sharing a body with a human, either,” Aziraphale finished. 

“I assume you have some idea how to go about it?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale frowned. “If it’s anything like what I did with Madame Tracy, it’s merely a matter of- of wafting yourself in the right direction, once you’re out of your own body.” He looked sharply at Crowley. “Don’t tell me you’ve  _ never _ possessed someone?”

Crowley shrugged. “Not really my thing,” he mumbled. “Don’t much like screwing with humans’ free will.”

Aziraphale gazed at him for a long moment, unsure what to do with this new — and yet unsurprising — information. “You lovely creature,” he murmured.

Crowley buried his face in his free hand. “Is this my life now? You’re going to start saying things like  _ that?” _

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, having already decided that he liked this reaction. “You’re the one who pointed out we can’t exactly get into any more trouble, you know.”

“Oh, I can think of a  _ lot _ of trouble we can get into,” Crowley said darkly. A small smile caught his lips. “But there’s nothing worse they can try to do to us. And if your plan works — we should test that out, actually, the whole switching thing — there’ll  _ be _ nothing worse they can do to us and we’ll be free to get into trouble in peace!”

“Oh,  _ really!” _ Aziraphale huffed, but Crowley’s enthusiasm was contagious, and he found himself smiling too.

“What I’m saying, angel, is that you’re brilliant,” Crowley said, a little more soberly. 

Aziraphale suddenly understood the urge to hide his face in his hand. He pressed his lips together instead. “I hope so.”

“It’ll work,” Crowley said. “You got the link I was missing. They’re not  _ that _ stupid, but they’re stupid enough. Or at least, overconfident enough.”

“I hope so,” Aziraphale said again, and squeezed Crowley’s hand. “I only wish there was a different way to find out.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said softly. “But there’s not, now, is there. We came up with the test, and we have to run it live. And hopefully, no one else will ever hear of it.” He sighed and frowned at the clock. “There’s two more hours yet until the alarm I set, and I’d kind of like to try to sleep again. Seems to me we should have time enough to figure out swapping after that.”

“I doubt it will be hard,” Aziraphale said. “Sleep, then.”

Crowley lay down, relinquishing Aziraphale’s hand in favor of curling up close by his side. “You going to get bored, sitting here by yourself?”

“I‘ll be all right,” Aziraphale said, laying a hand on Crowley’s shoulder. “I can miracle myself a book if need be.”

“Suit yourself.” Crowley yawned. 

Aziraphale nearly did the same, but caught himself, swallowing several times to rid himself of the feeling. He wasn’t  _ sleepy. _ Yawns were just contagious. The humans had tried to do research on it several times, but had never gotten farther than “yawning is contagious” before hitting a wall at  _ why. _

He looked down at Crowley, feeling a sort of amazement that the demon trusted him enough to sleep in his presence. Crowley seemed even more peaceful now, having made a plan for their continued survival. An untested, hare-brained plan, to be sure, but Agnes hadn’t failed them yet. 

Aziraphale sighed and leaned his head back to rest on the headboard again. It felt as though there should be something he was thinking about, but each topic he came upon was one he’d already thoroughly been over. Perhaps he  _ should _ get himself a book.

The thought was fuzzy and fleeting, gone before he could decide to act on it. So was his next thought, and the next. His eyes began to close without his conscious approval, and he didn’t feel like putting in the effort to re-open them.

Eventually Aziraphale properly dozed off, listing to the side until he finally slid down the headboard to rest on the pillows. Crowley sighed a little in his sleep and tucked himself closer to Aziraphale’s chest. 

The night ticked by peacefully, giving an angel and a demon just enough time to rest.

Together.

**Author's Note:**

> And TV-canon fills out what happens the next day. I have some ideas for a fic that takes place the next night, when they’re actually safe, but so far those are only ideas. Leave a comment if you have any thoughts; comments make me so very happy. :)


End file.
